


Moments

by lilacsilver



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/F, Femslash, Ficlet Collection, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Torture, Shameless reference to The Last Unicorn, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacsilver/pseuds/lilacsilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assorted Natasha/Darcy drabbles & ficlets originally posted on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. how to breathe

            It’s not like they’re actively _trying_ to keep this a secret. But Natasha is used to hiding things, and Darcy doesn’t exactly have the greatest track record with relationships; it’s easier not to say anything until she’s – they’re – absolutely sure it’s not going to crash and burn.

            For nearly three months all they have is stolen moments here and there, a light touch as they pass each other in the hallway. It’s enough, because it pretty much has to be. There’s no time for anything else, between Darcy’s near-constant scientist babysitting duties and Natasha always being on call for top-secret missions.

            When asked later, Darcy isn’t even sure how they got together. It just kind of happened, which is par for the course in regards to Darcy’s life now. She’s gotten pretty good at being unflappable in the face of sudden alterations to the status quo.

            And then Natasha almost dies on assignment to parts unknown. Darcy is busy trying not to be overly worried, because her kickass girlfriend is a highly trained professional. They’ve probably got a dozen backup plans if the original plan goes sideways, so everything’s going to be okay.

            Except that it isn’t. It’s not, because Steve calls her one day and says he’s at SHIELD medical; he tells her Natasha wants to see her, and bless him, he doesn’t even ask why. As soon as her heart stops trying to break out of her ribcage she’s going to bake him all the cookies.

            “On my way,” she says hoarsely. “What happened?”

            He doesn’t know for sure. Natasha’s not really in a state to tell them, he says; she just keeps asking for Darcy.

            The doctors are reluctant to let her in, when she gets there, but Steve uses his Captain America voice. She slips into the room and catches Clint’s eye; he stands up and exits without a word.

            Darcy takes Natasha’s hand in hers, and remembers how to breathe.


	2. as we go along

            “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, Darcy,” Natasha says. “Ever since I was released from hospital. I want to know why.”

            “Not – not intentionally,” Darcy whispers. It is a lie. She’s been avoiding Natasha very much on purpose, because she is afraid and maybe it’s easier to let things end quietly.

            “You’re not a very good liar. Tell me the truth.”

            Darcy does, in the same whisper, unable or perhaps unwilling to raise her voice. Natasha’s brow furrows deeper with every word.

            “Oh, Darcy,” she murmurs in response, and runs her fingers lightly over Darcy’s trembling hands. “Say the word and we can both walk away, and this will be a memory.”

            “I want…I want…god, Natasha, you know I can’t.” True. Natasha knows, sees it in the lines of her face, that Darcy doesn’t really want to let go of what they have. This is just the fear of loss, of death, at work; Natasha will not let it work against them.

            “I can’t promise I won’t die fighting,” she says. “But I will stand with you as long as I’m able.”

            Darcy lets out a shuddering breath. Natasha reaches for her then: hands on her shoulders, feather-light touches over her pulse. In another moment Darcy is curled against her, mindful of her not-quite-healed injuries.

            “We’ll take each day as it comes, darling,” Natasha breathes into her dark hair. “That’s all we _can_ do.”


	3. 4 AM

            Darcy likes to consider herself a patient person, given what she does for a living, but it’s four in the morning on her first day off in months. This is not okay.

            “Oh, my god,” she mumbles into her pillow. “Tasha, make it go away.”

            “I’ll do my best.” Beside her, Natasha sounds mildly annoyed, which spells trouble for whatever harebrained scheme Tony’s cooking up now. It seems to involve a small army of tuba players and several angry wildcats.

            “Uh-huh,” Darcy mutters. “Jus’ don’t kill him. Pepper will be upset if you kill him.”

            “No promises,” Natasha says, sliding out of bed. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, either way.”

            “Mm.” Darcy burrows further into the covers, seeking warmth, already drifting off to sleep again.


	4. Headache

            It’s not common knowledge that Darcy suffers from migraines. She keeps medicine on hand to make sure the headaches don’t prevent her from doing her job, so no one really needs to know.

            It doesn’t seem like that big of a deal when she realizes she’s out of said medicine; she adds it to her to-do list, and heads down to the mansion’s basement labs. She feels a little off, sure, but chalks it up to having stayed up too late the night before.

            The morning comes and goes, and by lunchtime she’s already snapped at Tony three times and can barely turn her head.

            “Darcy, are you feeling all right?” Jane finally asks. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

            “Don’t throw up in here,” Tony calls out. Too loud, he’s too loud, and it’s too bright in here. She can feel the pain building in her head, and blinks at Jane.

            “Migraine,” she rasps out. Jane’s eyes widen.

            “Do you have anything to take? Tony, can we dim the light in here?”

            “What?” he asks. “Why?”

            “Just turn off the damn lights,” she hisses. “Now.”

            He finally looks over at them, and his slightly manic expression shifts to something like concern. “JARVIS, lights?”

            The room goes dark. On the other side of the floor, obviously unaware of anything other than science, Bruce yelps.

            “What just happened?”

            “Darcy’s got a migraine,” Jane says, barely loud enough to carry. Darcy would appreciate her coddling more if it didn’t hurt like hell to think.

            “Ugh,” she mumbles.

            “You think you can make it back to your room?”

            “Eh.” Actual words are not worth the effort right now. Jane helps her stand up inch-by-inch, because anything faster than that will probably lead to her being sick.

            JARVIS helpfully lowers the lights on the way, and before she knows it Darcy is in bed with a cold cloth over her forehead.

            “Tony got in touch with Natasha,” Jane whispers. “She’s on her way.”

            Indeed, Natasha is there almost as soon as Jane leaves. Darcy takes the aspirin Natasha offers her, and waits out the pain.

            “You should have recognized the signs,” Natasha says, once Darcy is able to open her eyes more than a tiny fraction.

            “I didn’t think it would come on so fast,” she replies hoarsely. “Don’t get mad at me.”

            “Love, I’m not mad. Worried, perhaps, but definitely not mad.” Cool fingers rest on the back of Darcy’s neck, soothing some of the tension there.

            “Mm. I’m gonna try ‘n sleep now.”

            “I’ll stay, if you want? I’ve got the rest of the day.” Natasha curls up behind her without waiting for an answer, and Darcy drifts off, snug in the familiar warmth.


	5. nine days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains (non-graphic) mentions of torture, so please be warned.

            _Nine days, fourteen hours, thirty-eight minutes. That was how long she was missing before they figured out where she was._

Darcy wakes up in a hospital bed, and the room is empty. Everything hurts, but her feet seem the worst; at the end of the bed she can see that the blanket is tucked back so they are uncovered.

            She looks around for a call button or something to let someone know she’s awake, but the door opens before she finds one.

            “Oh, good, you’re awake,” the nurse says when she comes up to the bed. “You think you’re up to visitors?”

            “Yeah, okay,” Darcy replies. “Send ‘em in.”

            The nurse leaves after checking the numbers on the machines, and it’s not three minutes later that Fury walks in.

            “What do you remember, Ms. Lewis?” he asks, all business.

            “They knew who I was,” she starts, because it’s the first thing that comes to mind. Then more bits and pieces begin to filter past the haze of pain. “They weren’t after Jane’s research.”

            “What were they after?”

            “The team, the Avengers…I heard them trying to figure out a way to disable Tony’s suit, how to…how to…oh, God.”

            It’s utterly horrifying, the thought of her found family being destroyed, and she turns her face away rather than let Fury see her cry.

            “Thank you, Ms. Lewis.” The door shuts, only to open again. She doesn’t look to see who’s here now.

            “Darcy.” It’s Natasha. She sounds hard and cold, nothing like the way she does when they’re alone.

            “What did they do to me?” Because damn it, she needs to know. It’s easier to ask about her injuries than it is to admit what’s really going through her mind: _I thought you weren’t coming. I thought you’d given up looking for me. I thought I was going to die. I was starting to believe the things they said to me._

            Natasha inhales sharply, and Darcy realizes she’s just said all that out loud.

            “How could you ever think I would stop trying to find you? After all this time, you doubt the lengths I would go to for you?”

            “The things they told me, ‘Tasha,” she whispers. “They didn’t need me alive for whatever they were planning. Bait doesn’t have to be breathing to work.”

            Natasha bows her head. “I’m sorry, love. I know that’s not good enough, but I’m sorry.”

            Darcy reaches out a hand, palm-up, and a heartbeat later Natasha’s fingers curl around hers.


	6. Birthday

            Today is Darcy’s birthday, and she hasn’t told anyone. She doesn’t feel much like celebrating, anyway, not with her almost-family trying to recover from a bad fight. On top of that, she’s got plenty of work to distract her.

            She’s twenty-six years old. There’s a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream by her elbow, a stack of Jane’s notes by the other, and she needs to try to decipher the scribbles to put them in some kind of logical order for the higher-ups to read. Assuming, that is, that they even care what Jane does as long as she doesn’t fail.

            It’s three o’clock. She’s been working since nine this morning, and she’s just over halfway finished. There are a lot of notes, a lot of squinting at what looks like meaningless doodles but could just as easily be words; Jane’s handwriting is _horrible_ when she’s in the middle of a discovery.

            Darcy sighs and looks at her ice cream to find it melted, little chocolate squares floating on top. It’s just as good this way, she knows from experience, and picks the bowl up to sip at it instead of trying to find the spoon.

\--

            An hour later, she gives up. She’s tired, her eyes hurt, and she doesn’t want to deal with this for a while. Maybe there’s something on TV to watch.

            She ventures out into the common area to find the team, plus Pepper and Jane, sitting around the television. The team still looks haunted and worn, Pepper worried, and Jane anxious. But they’re all here anyway.

            “About time you got here,” Tony says, lacking his usual snark. “We were about to send Pep after you.”

            “I was working. What’s going on?”

            “You tell me, birthday girl.” Then, off her surprised look, “What, you thought we didn’t know? I make it my business to know things.”

            “Why didn’t you say anything?” Jane pipes up.

            “I didn’t want to…there was the _thing_ , and…well.”

            The mood, already low, darkens even further. Darcy wants to kick herself for bringing up what they’re all trying to get past.

            “Well, anyway,” Tony breaks the silence. “Your cake is in the fridge. I don’t know where your presents are, but there’s definitely a cake unless Thor ate it.”

            Darcy looks at each of them in turn. It’s clear that they’re trying, and she loves them for it, but it’s also obvious that they’d all rather be anywhere else. Even Natasha, who is somehow able to make her raised eyebrow communicate an apology.

            “Look,” Darcy says at last. “I appreciate it, but you guys really don’t have to do this right now. Go, do whatever it is you need to do, and we’ll pick up when things are a little better, yeah?”

            She leaves the room first. Behind her she hears the sounds of everyone else getting up, dispersing.

\--

            That evening, when she’s finally (finally!) done transcribing the pile of Jane’s notes, Darcy gets ready to go to bed alone. She doesn’t expect to see Tasha until tomorrow morning at the earliest, which is why she startles so badly when a cool hand touches her waist, under her shirt.

            “Don’t _do_ that,” she hisses. “You know I don’t like it when you sneak up on me.”

            “My apologies.” Natasha kisses her lightly on the temple. “Are you all right? I know today wasn’t exactly an ideal birthday.”

            “It’s fine. Really.” Darcy shifts a little, to rest her head on Natasha’s shoulder, and smiles faintly when slim fingers begin to trace circles on her lower back.

            “If you say so,” Natasha murmurs.


	7. Franken-cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't strictly Natasha/Darcy, but it does include the pairing so I figured I'd put it here.

            “Hey, Lewis, I got you a present,” Tony announces. He’s carrying a box that’s making weird noises, so Darcy thinks she’s justified in putting a lab table between it and herself.

            “What is it?” she asks cautiously.

            “You know that thing last week with the genetically modified cats? They just got a clean bill of health and low threat rating.”

            “Tony Stark, did you steal me a Franken-cat?!”

            “Nah, I just pestered Fury until he let me take one.” He sets the box down and opens the lid. The biggest cat Darcy’s ever seen pokes its head out, satellite-dish ears flicking this way and that. Bright yellow eyes land on her and it seems to come to a decision.

            They watch the feline unfold itself from the box and step out. It’s kind of silly-looking, its tortoiseshell fur fluffy and wild, with little tufts between its toes. Darcy loves it immediately.

            “Hi, there,” she says, reaching out to scratch its chin. The resulting purr is thunderously loud.

            “I’ll leave you two to make friends,” Tony says. Darcy waves in dismissal, all her attention on the cat.

            Jane wanders back in a while later and does a double-take when she sees the newly-named Louise curled up in Darcy’s lap.

            “What…?”

            “Tony gave her to me.”

            “You can’t keep her in here. She’ll get hair all over everything.”

            “Yeah, yeah, I know. Help me out, will you? She’s heavy.”

            Louise fixes a suspicious gaze on Jane, but allows the scientist to pick her up so Darcy can stand.

            “Come on, girlie, let’s go find something to eat,” Darcy says. “You like chicken? I think there’s chicken in the fridge upstairs.”

            As it turns out, Louise _loves_ chicken. JARVIS dutifully adds organic chicken to the grocery list.

            “Make sure to get a lot of it, will you, J? She’s a big eater.”

            “Of course, Ms. Lewis.”

\--

            Natasha, to her everlasting credit, doesn’t so much as blink when Louise strolls into their suite that night and hurls herself onto the couch.

            “Tony did inform me we had a new pet,” is all she says. “I’d be on guard, though. He’ll probably use this as leverage for something.”

            “Eh, I’m not worried. I’ve got you watching my back.”

            Natasha smiles wickedly.


	8. to read

            It’s coming up on two years that she and Natasha have been together, but they don’t do anniversaries. With the lives they lead, they don’t have time to plan celebrations; there’s always too much for both of them to do, day in and day out, for anything major like that.

            Darcy isn’t bothered. She knows that the little things matter most, like the rare quiet evenings they spend just talking. This is one of those evenings, and they’re holed up in their room basking in the peace.

            She’s curled up on her side, her head on Natasha’s stomach, listening to her girlfriend read aloud.

            “ _‘She would be,’ Molly sniffed. ‘It would be the last unicorn in the world that came to Molly Grue.’”_ Natasha’s voice is low, even gentle, as she goes on with the story. Darcy knows it by heart, every turn the characters take, every failure and triumph, every sorrow and joy. She will never, never tire of it.

            All too soon it is over, though she thinks she must have drifted off somewhere between the first encounter with the Bull and the last. Natasha sets the book aside and strokes her dark hair.

            “You look tired,” she murmurs. “You should sleep. I’ll be here.”


	9. Cold

                “You wanna tell me what the hell, Tony?” Darcy asks sharply, tugging the blanket more snugly around her shoulders. She’s wearing three pairs of socks; that’s how cold it is in here, which is just ridiculous on every level. They live in a freaking mansion owned by a genius and run by an AI, and somehow neither the man nor the computer caught whatever is currently screwing up the heating system.

            “Go away and let me work, Lewis,” Tony responds. “JARVIS, any progress getting the system back online?”

            “At the current rate, it will take me three hours and twenty-six minutes to restore it to optimum performance.”

            Darcy groans and slumps against the doorway. Tony flaps a hand at her.

            “Didn’t I tell you to let me deal with it? Steve said something about baking cookies, go bother him.”

            She shuffles off, scowling over her shoulder.

\--

            Steve is indeed baking cookies, or trying to. It looks more like he’s doing battle with the oven, and the oven is winning handily. Clint and Thor are both obviously trying not to laugh, while Bruce watches with mild concern.

            Darcy is just cold enough to be annoyed, and smacks Thor on the back of the head because he’s the closest target (well, actually, Bruce is, but like hell she’s going to risk a big green problem).

            “Be nice,” she snaps. “Steve, sweetie, you want some help?”

            In the time she’s been living here, she’s pretty much adopted the male Avengers as almost-siblings. Natasha is a different story, but that’s because (A) Natasha can take care of herself, and (B) their relationship is decidedly not platonic.

            “Thank you,” Steve says, smiling at her and backing away toward the table where Clint is seated. She opens the oven door to survey the damage and immediately covers her mouth with a corner of her blanket when smoke billows out.

            “Well, these are ruined,” she says, muffled. “Who wants to help me clean it up?”

            Steve, being the sweetheart he is, stays behind when the others flee the scene. Darcy takes a second to hate them, but gets distracted by a particularly difficult-to-remove burnt cookie.

            “We should watch a movie when we’re done,” she suggests. “Something you haven’t seen yet? Maybe get the whole team in here, except for Tony because if he doesn’t get the heat fixed soon I won’t be held responsible for what I’ll do to him.”

            “I’m always up for punishing Stark,” Natasha offers from behind them. “What did you have in mind?”

            Darcy doesn’t even flinch, used to her girlfriend’s creepy spy skills by now. “I don’t really know. I’ll figure something out.”

            Between the three of them, they get the mess sorted out in no time at all and head to the common area to choose a movie. The others join them soon after, which just guarantees that they’ll never settle on what to watch, and Darcy gives up when the argument turns heated.

            She’s in a bad mood already, having spent the morning transcribing Jane’s chicken-scratch notes while trying not to freeze _and_ dealing with a long phone call from her mother (who wants her to move back home). So it’s really not that surprising when she feels tears burning in her eyes.

           Without a word, she gets up from the couch and leaves the room. It feels too much like her actual family, where pleasant days go sour with no warning; she can’t be around the team right now.

           She barely makes it to her and Natasha’s suite before the tears start falling, and collapses on their bed to sob. It’s not even noon, she thinks, but it’s already a shitty day.

           A long time passes before Natasha sits down beside her, gently stroking her hair. It’s enough to calm Darcy, and eventually she rolls over to face Natasha.

          “Tell me,” Tasha murmurs. So she does.


	10. Assignment

            “Darcy, you don’t have to do this.”

            “Yeah, I know,” Darcy sighs. “But Fury asked me specifically. _Fury_. You don’t say no to that guy.”

            “You’re not even an agent,” Natasha goes on. “You’re support staff in the science labs. You aren’t trained for this.”

            Darcy turns and fixes her with a scowl. “And _you_ are acting like I’m being sent off to die, or something, which I’m totally not. This is the kind of shit they assign to barely-trained baby agents.”

            Natasha glares right back at her. “I still don’t like it.”

            “No one said you had to, honey. What is even your problem, anyway? You’re twitchy.”

            “I have a bad feeling about the whole thing, Darcy.” Natasha’s voice is low, and betrays none of the unease she claims. “I’d feel better if one of us were with you.”

            The assignment requires Darcy to act as a waitress at some high-profile criminal’s favorite restaurant. She knows how to do that, how to slip into the kind of attitude that makes people not look twice at her; this is going to be easy, and there’ll be a team of agents lurking around the restaurant if it _stops_ being easy.

            “I’ll be _fine_ ,” she says, and that’s the end of the conversation, because she has to go if she’s going to get to the restaurant before the mark.

\--

            Later, holding an icepack to her head with her uninjured hand, Darcy decides that next time Fury asks her to do something, she’ll absolutely say no.

            “You were right, I was totally not fine, I’ll never doubt you again,” she informs a watchful Natasha.

            “See that you don’t.” Natasha doesn’t touch her, doesn’t step closer; they’re still at headquarters, surrounded by agents. Now is not the time to let their guard down.

            That will come later.


End file.
